


don't give a damn 'bout my reputation

by IceisAwesome



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, BAMF Sawada Tsunayoshi, Body Dysphoria, Daniela reincarnated as Tsuna, Female Sawada Tsunayoshi, Flame Sealing (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Male-Female Friendship, Misgendering, Platonic Relationships, Reborn didn't sign up for this shit, Reincarnation, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Tsuna is So Done, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 01:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17499038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceisAwesome/pseuds/IceisAwesome
Summary: Tsuna falls asleep. Daniela wakes.





	1. Chapter 1

Daniela had never bothered to think much on where death would take her.

In her more whimsical moments, she had guessed on Hell. After all, where else would she go? She is a child killer, a betrayer, a monster made by circumstance-she would be welcome nowhere else.

Thisis wholly unexpected.

* * *

Tilting her head to the side, Daniela pokes at her cheek, frowning at the mirror when her finger only touches baby fat. Her hair is far too light, her eyes are far too dark, and even worse, there’s a  _cock_ hanging between her legs.

But, unpleasant as that is, that pales in comparison to the bigger problem. Trying again to summon her flames, she hisses in frustration when nothing happens, knowing it’s a futile effort.

Timoteo was never the son she wanted. He was always too impulsive, too brash, too weak. And yet she thought him better than this. Yet she thought he wouldn’t break one of the few rules the mafia held sacred.

But here she is in this too small, too wrong body. Here she is with cold seeping underneath her skin, with a daze trying to cloud her mind.

With a snarl she finally steps back, tearing her gaze away from the mirror and pushing the fog in her mind down with sheer force of will. 

She is Daniela di Vongola, and her soul will not be broken by a seal!

* * *

The Ninth (and isn’t that odd? isn’t it odd, to see her little Teo as a man older than she ever was) and Sawada will pay for what they did. Honor demands she retaliate despite their blood relation.

But that will have to wait until she is whole again. For now she must plan, for now she must gather allies and see just how the world has changed.

First, though, there is something she must do.

* * *

“Mama?”

“Yes, Tsu-kun?” 

She gazes up at this woman that let herself believe Iemitsu’s lies, before pausing, before scowling as the words stick on her tongue. 

Judging by the woman’s indulgent smile, her frown is more adorable than anything else.

“I’m a girl, mama,” she finally tells her, thanking whatever power is out there that this body retained its knowledge of the language.

Nana blinks once, twice, before nodding resolutely.

Well. Maybe there is something to be said for obliviousness.

“Do you want to change your name?” Nana asks and she pauses, mind racing through possibilities.

As much as she wants-god, does she  _want_ -she’s not Daniela anymore. This too small body is proof of that, the man calling himself her father only enforces it.

Idly, she raises a hand to her cheek, fingers pressing for a tattoo that’s no longer there. She thinks of the red flowers crawling down the trellis at the mansion, of the red roses that her Timoteo loved to bring to her.

“Tsubaki,” she looks up at Nana, the first smile in this new body spreading across her face. “My name is Tsubaki.”

Her mother-for that is what this woman is, strange as it may seem-smiles indulgently down at her, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her head.

* * *

Gazing into the mirror again, she frowns, eyes drawing across her body.

The red ribbon tied around her impossibly fluffy hair is a comfort. The polished black shoes and the red skirt Nana insisted on buying help too, help something settle.

It still feels wrong, though, still makes her stomach heave and her hands twitch.

But it's pointless to lose yourself to the past, wallowing only makes things worse.

Daniela di Vongola may have woken in this body, but it is Sawada Tsubaki looking in the mirror. 


	2. Chapter 2

School, from what little she remembers, was a wholly unpleasant experience. It’s not exactly something she’s keen to do again.

Unfortunately it’s also something even the woman won’t let her skip. So she’s here, standing outside the entrance to the school, easily ignoring the woman chattering away next to her.

“You’ll do great, Tsu-chan,” the woman interrupts her, seemingly mistaking her sullen silence for nerves.

Pasting on a smile, she rolls her shoulders back and bounces on her feet, once again cursing how small this body is.

“I know I will, mama.”

* * *

Daniela di Vongola had attended the academy, as all mafia children did, and what she remembers is a far cry from…this.

She remembers hours upon hours of drills, she remembers even the youngest students doing their best to make connections in between formal lectures by imposing teachers. There was backstabbing and treachery and all sorts of things being encouraged as practice for the real world.

Her memories are a far cry from this classroom with absurdly cheerful posters and a smiling teacher heading her way.

“And this must be little-” the teacher pauses, doubtlessly remembering the note the woman had penned in on her insistence, and she grins the shark smile that had served her well in the before.

“Tsubaki, sensei,” she easily corrects, “the papers for the name change haven’t gone through yet.”

“Well,” and she has to commend the teacher for a quick recovery, “miss Tsu-chan, what would you like to do? We’re just waiting for everyone else to arrive!”

“I would like to read,” Tsubaki easily answers, “preferably in a secluded spot.”

The teacher blinks, probably confused by her easy grasp of vocabulary no common six year old should know, but her cheerful smile stays pasted on. She wants to see what will finally make her composure break.

* * *

It’s almost disappointingly easy to make the sensei break.

All it took was filling out the aptitude tests to the best of her ability, which meant efficiently and without pause. The math was pathetically easy-arithmetic had always been one of her best subjects-and the language, while harder, was easy enough, once she bothered to draw on context clues and what this body remembered.

She waits patiently, idly combing through the memories of this body, when the teacher returns, a man in a suit by her side.

“Tsubaki-chan,” the man calls, voice calm and collected, “follow me, please.”

Curious and more than a little bored, she gets up to follow him, winding through the corridors until they finally reach an office.

“I’m sure you know,” the man starts, “that cheating is not allowed in our school.”

Tsubaki blinks at that, letting her surprise show. She’s in a class filled with real children, how the hell could she _cheat._

“Sir,” she starts, “who would I have cheated off? None of the other students think beyond wondering whether they should stick crayons up their nose or in their mouth.”

That garners a look of surprise, his mouth contorting rather funnily, and she indulges herself, smirking back at him just to watch his reaction.

“Well,” the man finally gathers himself. “Well. We’ll need to run more tests, of course, and contact your parents-but I think we may have to move you to an older class.”

“Is that all, sir?” She asks, tilting her head just slightly, and the man’s face twists again at her lack of reaction.

“That is all, Sawada-san. Please follow me to your new classroom.”

* * *

Controlling events-also known as manipulation, if one was feeling crass-is a delicate art. She’d always delighted in it, always enjoyed the rush that came from defeating an enemy famiglia with nothing but words or using her pawns to utterly destroy an opponent.

But she has no power now, no flames and even more importantly-no allies. She wouldn’t care if she was simply surviving, but she’s not. No, she plans on ruling for the second time, plans on becoming a queen whether Vongola comes calling or not. 

She will rule, as she was meant to do, and for that Tsubaki needs allies. For that she needs a right hand and a left, loyal subordinates and pawns willing to die.

It’s easy to ensure loyalty when you pick them young, something she made great use of as Daniela, recruiting the street rats and orphans of Italy into Vongola. (No matter what some of the traditionalists barked.) It’s easy when they’re young, and thankfully she’s sitting in a class full of literal children

* * *

“Hibari Kyoya,” the sensei calls out, and she shifts her gaze to look at the boy with dark hair and pale eyes.

Hibari, like Hiroshi. Young Hiroshi with the shark smile, with the cold eyes and the unflinching glare. The boy who reached out to secure an alliance with Vongola despite the protests from every corner, despite what remained of the yakuza after the war all despising him. Yes, Daniela had been quite fond of bold Hiroshi.

It’s pleasing to know that the family has continued on. Successfully, too, judging by the note of fear the teacher tries to hide when the boy looks up at him.

Well. Perhaps she’ll have the aid of another Hibari in this second chance. 

* * *

“Herbivore,” the boy next to her grunts out, ignoring the terrified glances sent his way by the others in their group.

“I have a name, you know,” she responds, more amused than anything by this strange Hibari child. “And besides, you shouldn’t just assume people are prey with no proof.”

The boy shifts at that, pale eyes focusing, and she  _smiles._

Her mouth twists into the gleaming grin that terrified more than a dozen dons, that sparked fear in every mafioso with half a brain, that warned of inevitable death and destruction.

Tsubaki smiles like the predator she is-and he sees it.

“Let’s start over. My name is Sawada Tsubaki. And you are?”

He knows she knows, judging by the half hearted glare, but the boy answers anyways.

“Hibari Kyoya,” he tells her, obvious interest in his eyes. She can’t help it, she reaches out to poke at his cheek, darting away when he flushes and tries to hit her.

“You’re  _adorable_ , Kyoya-kun,” she coos, openly laughing as the boy glares at her, mouth pursed in a harsh line. The glares continue but there’s interest too, something curious in his eyes, and she smiles at that.

Curiosity is easy to turn into admiration and devotion will follow soon enough.


End file.
